


"If You Die, I'll Kill You"

by 2momsmakearight



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Suicide Attempt, post-IWTB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2momsmakearight/pseuds/2momsmakearight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr one-sentence drabble challenge. "If you die, I'll kill you" - prompt. <br/>Dark story. </p><p>This was all her fault - she should have known</p>
            </blockquote>





	"If You Die, I'll Kill You"

This was all her fault. She should have known.

If she could take anything back, it would be that day. As she sits beside him in yet another hospital bed, holding his hand, wishing him back to life, she can do nothing but think about that day; what brought her to this moment. 

It’s interesting what can be remembered about a particular situation. She couldn’t tell you what she was wearing the day she walked out on their marriage, but she could tell you that there were six half-empty coffee mugs littering the dining room table, rings staining the antique wood, and that he wore a heather gray t-shirt, stained with days-old perspiration. She remembers the look in his eyes, the resigned hollowness in them, darkness having taken full residence in his mind. He remained motionless on the couch, unblinking, staring at the wall as she walked away. 

He called her two weeks later, his voice heavy and slurred on her voicemail. “…love jjou…foreffe’…”

She doesn’t remembering driving to that unremarkable house in the country, but she remembers the utter stillness inside. Even the dust mites seemed to have stilled. The air was thick and stale, curtains drawn. Pizza boxes piled the table in the living room, mail and trash strewn about. She remembers the sluggish way her body moved through the house, dreamlike, incapable of running, incapable of quick movement. 

It’s a blur, really… bits and pieces slowly coming to the forefront of her mind. The sound of her heels on the hardwood floors, clicking roughly in her rush to get to his side. His still body, prone and face down, vomit dripping from the side of the bed. The translucent orange of the empty pill bottles littering his nightstand. The clanging of the hollow bottle of Jack Daniels as she kicked it from the floor, kneeling in his sick, her fingers searching for a pulse. The picture of William, corners tattered, resting against an envelope marked “Scully”. The sound of her scream ringing in her ears…

The beeping of the life support machine alerts her and she sighs, her eyes searching his face for signs of life. Tubes line his body as machines pump his heart and breathe for him, his stubble dark against the paleness of his skin. 

She takes his hand, his skin ashen and dull, and brings it to her face. “Please…,” she whispers pleadingly. “If you die, I’ll kill you,” she whispers behind a tearful smile. “I can’t do this without you,” she cries, kissing his palm. “This is all my fault. I should have known.”


End file.
